Amarelle

Amarelle’s eyes filled with knowing and fear upon hearing disembodied words that intoned those of Nell.  She shrunk from the sound of her kind mentor’s out-of-body voice as it spoke to her and her alone – words unheard by others who were not gifted at hearing the spirits beyond.  To Amarelle, Nell’s soft sounding voice seemed like a merciless sting.  One could only feel a stab like that if they had conscience then acted against it.   Guilt’s vice like grip clenched at Amarelle’s stomach causing her to lurch forward.  It made her feel sick.  Rather than succumb to the illness that rose within her and vomit amid the enraptured crowd of vultures that swirled about her, Amarelle swallowed the offensive liquid.  The foul taste of bitter acidic bile drained her face of color.  Yet even as she stepped back further into the crowd in an attempt to hide, the hand of karma squeezed tighter upon her innards.  Amarelle lurched forward.   Her body curled inward.  She heaved, swallowed then heaved again.   She huddled within her royal blue cape and used it as if it was a Knights shield but much to her distain, Amarelle could not escape her self-inflicted pain.  Neither could she protect herself from hearing Nell’s diction by bracing her hands over her ears.  Amarelle’s attempt at blocking Nell’s verbiage was mute. The mentor’s words would not be silenced.

“Amarelle, you know the truth.  I am not a Witch.”

Spirits from beyond cannot be silenced.  Amarelle knew this well.

As well, Amarelle knew that once spoken, words cannot be unheard.  Words remain in the for-ever-ness until they find their proper receptors and are heard.  Amarelle knew that the preacher must never learn her truth.  The realization – hence – mere admittance of her “truth;” that of her “true powers;” even though made silently in her own head made Amarelle tremble in fear; for if the preacher learned of them,  she too would be burned as a witch upon the stake.

“We will meet again, Amarelle.  Only next time it will be as sisters.  Until then, learn from the mistake you have made.  Remember …” Nell’s words trailed off unheard amid the torrents of venting screeching vultures.

Terrified, Amarelle began to shake, backed further into the crowd and screamed, “Burn, burn.  Burn, you witch!”  She vowed to keep screaming the words until she herself believed them to be truth.  She must forget or die from her guilt ridden soul – this, a terror worse than burning on fiery stake.

Amarelle continued screaming as inner hysteria overtook her. She screamed until her spirit shattered.  A spiritless soul without memory, Amarelle screamed on. It was an endless feat. She screeched mindlessly until she no longer had a voice. Dry rasping gasps were all that erupted from her dried cracked lips when the preacher sent for her retrieval. The stakes had long stopped smoldering by then.

Women of the congregation took Amarelle by the elbows and led her to the preacher’s hovel as they had been instructed.  The pious women were subservient and obedient to the preacher’s cause.  They cared not that Amarelle’s once lively blue eyes stared blankly into an unseen oblivion.

Nor did the women care that Amarelle’s long hair which had fallen down her back, colored like fall straw hours before was a jumbled knotted matt or that her muddy face was pale and streaked with dried tears.  They cared little that she now had the appearance of a graying corpse.  They cared only that she had been successfully converted by the preacher.  They cared only that this waif had done what was right for mankind when she pointed out the covens head witch – the Sacerdotessa who had burned at the stake. And, they cared only that Amarelle’s sacrilegious soul had been saved by the preacher.  She now belonged to them, that was all they cared.

“Amarelle,” Nell commanded silently to the comatose form curled up like a dog before the fireplace, “Listen to me! You must hear and remember what I say to you. We will meet again, Amarelle.  Only next time it will be as sisters in the future. We will be named for the same path we walk upon. You will not want to emulate my way of being.  Not like you have here.  You will see me a lacking in what you believe to be a social decorum because I am different than others. And, will refuse to conform to the social morays of that world.  A quiet rebel in the future, I have held on to my beliefs, talents and gifts learned during this time period where you watched my body burn.  In the future, I will bare the scars of this burning you witnessed and were involved in, for the true evil doers must remember the damage they did in past when they look upon my face.

As you know Amarelle, our spirits are reborn over and over until we fulfill our destiny.  This is our fate. Karma will be done unto them who do harm to others for their own gain.  We will become that karma Amarelle; wake-up!

You may sleep but you may not shut down Amarelle.  You must fulfill your destiny.

Wake-up, Amarelle, call back your inner light.  There will be a time in the future when the fabric of the world is torn so I will return in spirit form before you – that time is now!

Awaken from your closed off slumber Amarelle, awaken; true enlightening waits no longer. You must try to remember this Amarelle.  Recall your lost spirit – wayward spirits are malevolent. You cannot remain in this deadened detached state.  Your body needs to live.  Make the choice to live Amarelle.  You must follow your path into the future; when you awaken, you will be presented with two life routes; both are the path of the rose. You must choose one of them before the world can progress toward the future. Neither choice will be wrong.  However, one of the paths will be extremely difficult now; the other easier now but more difficult for you and others in the future.  I know of both outcomes but cannot hint at what either trail holds in store for you.   You must walk this path in human form.  My spirit will be there to guide you if you look for it.  Try to learn from life’s lessons.  Remember …,”  Nell felt Amarelle’s body begin to stir.

Confident that she had Amarelle’s attention, Nell continued.  “Wake-up Amarelle, look at me!”

Nell noticed Amarelle, jump and look around hesitantly in search of her familiar voice.  She became confused however when it was evident that no one around her was heralding her name.   Amarelle’s eyes widened as she surveyed the unfamiliar surroundings she found herself in and her face fell when she glimpsed the tattered dirty an image of herself in the window of her lodging.  A large heap was uttering thunderous noises from within a blanketed bed.  A dark hooded entity loomed in the corner with a pulsating pink orb.  And, Amarelle remembered as her mouth formed the word and she screamed, “Witch!”

“Very well, it’s the second path you have chosen Amarelle,” Nell sighed in humble acceptance.  “Take heed of the vision you see before you now.  It will appear to you again in the future.  You will need to have the courage to look at this vision closely.  Only then, will you overcome the fears you face now. For they will follow you into the future and cause your inner spirit to feel haunted and lost.  Try to remember your gifts Amarelle.  Color is important to you.  Why?  Search your memories. Try to remember when next you see this vision before you.”

Nell took a long memorable look at Amarelle.  Time would not kind to her.  The life trail she had chosen would be fraught with maniacal chaos for the path Amarelle had chosen was that of a follower.

“You could have been a Way-Shower Amarelle,” Nell thought sadly.  “Never mind, the choice will remain open for you to revisit. Life is an endless circle.  Crossroads are presented along the way where the choices you make will eventually lead you home from the labyrinth of lost souls.”

“See you in the future sister,” Nell whispered to Amarelle as she let her image fade away, “Remember, my spirit will be there to guide you, look for clues…”